The Devil's Own (Hellraisers 2)

“Does he realize that some of his own men might get shot if they try to stop us?”

Kerry smiled ruefully at Juan’s answer. “He says that some deserve to be shot.”

Linc stuck out his hand and the young man shook it solemnly. “Anything you can do to help, buddy, I’ll appreciate.” Linc’s tone didn’t need any translation.

Kerry suggested that Juan wake up his sisters and tell them goodbye. He crept over to where they were sleeping. His face softened as he gazed down at them, but he motioned for Kerry to let them sleep.

He murmured something to her. His face and voice were earnest, his eyes shimmering with tears. Then, after one last glance down at the sleeping girls, he silently nodded farewell and melted into the jungle.

“What did he say?”

Kerry brushed the tears from her eyes. “He didn’t want his sisters’ last memory of him to be a goodbye. He knows it’s doubtful that they’ll ever see each other again. He wants them to start a new life in the United States. He said to tell them that he is willing to die for the freedom of his country. If they never hear from him again, they’re to find comfort in the fact that he died happy, knowing that they were safe and free in America.”

They fell silent, and for a long moment none of them moved. Any commentary on the young soldier’s sacrifice would be superfluous. Words, no matter how poetic, wouldn’t do it justice and would only sound banal.

Linc forced himself out of the reflective mood and asked Joe, “Do you know how to use that?” He nodded down toward the Uzi the boy held in his hands.

While Linc was instructing him, Kerry moved among the children, rousing them, but telling them to remain as quiet as possible. She gave them fresh water to drink and promised that there would be food for them on the airplane. Surely Jenny and Cage had thought of that.

When they had gathered what pathetically few possessions they had left, they began the final leg of their journey to the border. Kerry insisted on carrying Lisa so Linc would have more freedom of movement. Not only was he carrying the machete now, but the blunt-nosed machine gun, too.

It was almost eleven o’clock before they reached the edge of the jungle. A wide strip had been bulldozed out of it so that the border between Monterico and its neighbor could be easily distinguished. Between the two green walls of solid jungle, there was a swath of open territory about as wide as a football field.

“There, that’s where he’s supposed to land,” Kerry said, pointing toward the open space. They remained behind the shelter of the trees, but could easily see the clearing. “See that old watch-tower? He’ll taxi up to that and turn around.”

Linc, squinting ag

ainst the brightness of the sun, studied the area. “All right, let’s move as close to it as possible. Tell the kids to stay together and well behind the tree line.”

“Do you see anything?”

“No, but I’ve got the feeling that we’re not the only ones taking cover in the jungle this morning. Let’s go.”

They moved laterally, always keeping several yards of jungle-growth between the clearing and their parallel path. When they came even with the abandoned watchtower, Linc halted them. “We’ll wait here.” He consulted his wristwatch. “It shouldn’t be long now.”

Linc told Kerry to make sure all the children understood the need to run in a crouching position should they be fired upon. “Tell them not to stop running for any reason. Any reason, Kerry. Make certain they understand that.”

They prepared the children as well as they could, then Linc drew Kerry aside, out of earshot, and sat down to wait. “He’s got fifteen minutes,” he said, glancing at his wristwatch again.

She said confidently, “Cage will be here.”

Linc’s eyes, as sharp as a gold-plated razor, sliced down to her. “Who is this Cage Hendren anyway?”

“I told you. He’s a Texan whose missionary brother was shot by one of El Presidente’s firing squads a couple of years ago.”

“I know all that. But who—or what—is he to you?”

If she didn’t know better, she would think Linc was jealous. “My good friend’s husband.”

He stared deeply into her eyes as though looking for signs of duplicity. “What was he to you before he married your good friend?”

“Nothing! I didn’t even know him. I met Jenny first, through the Hendren Foundation.”

He looked away, staring straight ahead. He didn’t comment on the information she had imparted, but the tension in his jaw had relaxed noticeably.

“You and I will escort the children out,” he said to her, abruptly changing the subject. “Can you carry Lisa?”

“Of course.”